Liberty City:Where It's Everyone's Fault
by Sean Patrick
Summary: A man gets tangled up in the Leone family, shortly after Salvatore's death. It's my first attempt at a fanfic, so any and all criticism is welcome. I'll post more chapters as soon as I can.
1. Good Morning Liberty!

Liberty City: Where It's Everyone's Fault

  
  


I just kept thrusting. Harder and harder, I didn't want it to stop. She was so god damn beautiful, too. Probably the best looking girl I'd ever been with. It was just the two of us, there on the beach, having the best sex of my life. Her breasts glimmered in the setting tropical sun; her hair, as beautiful and blonde as the sand underneath it. I could it feel it now, amongst the moaning and the movement. I felt the climax. Here it comes...Oh here it comes....Her screaming was louder now, and just as I thrust one last time, "BUZZZZZZ" 

"Fucking alarm clock," I said to myself. 

I was back in my apartment. 

"Wake up, Liberty. It's 6:45 AM and you're listening to Chatterbox FM. I'm your host Lazlow, and today on the show we have the owner of PetsOvernight.com, Jeff Bezas. He's going to..." I shut the radio off. 

It took me a while to get out of bed, but eventually I found the strength to do so. My feet hit the cold linoleum floor, and I took a look out of the lone window in the bedroom. Greeting me was the vast cityscape of Liberty, such a beautiful mix of cloud, smog, and concrete. The typical 'morning gray' that I'm accustomed to. I've lived in this city for the past 18 years, and I don't think I've once woken up to a beautiful sunrise. It's kinda sad when you think about it. Looking down at the street below I could already see that traffic was horrible today. I'm sure the Callahan is backed up for an hour. And that means the subway's gonna be hell. Shit. Looks like I'm walking to work today. 

A couple of steps from my bedroom was the kitchen. An amalgamation of tile, cabinets and an again Frigidaire. What was most upsetting was the lack of actual food in the thing. A couple packets of ketchup, jar of mayo, and a half gallon of expired skim milk. The rent for this dump was cleaning me out, and my pay at work wasn't helping at all. 

I checked the couch for some loose change. Eighty-seven cents. That should be enough for a cup of coffee. I threw on my slacks, the ones I hadn't ironed in weeks. Soonafter followed my shirt and tie, and I was out the door. 

As soon as I hit the street, which was 6 stories below, I kinda felt uneasy. Today just seemed like one of those days. You know, those ones that always start the same but never end up exactly the way you planned. But then again, this is Liberty City, nothing ever goes as planned. I hung a quick right from my apartment building to the little shop on the corner. I made it a habit to get my morning coffee there. There's this one girl who works the counter, I think her name's Jenny, that I'm pretty friendly with. She always manages to slip me a danish or something. Truth be told, she's kinda attractive. I wouldn't mind hitting it with her. But other than our daily exchange of cash for coffee, I have no other business with her. Maybe I'll strike up some courage to talk to her....someday. 

Opening the door of the coffee shop, I look right at the register. Shit, it's that Indian guy. She must have gotten the day off. Reluctantly, I stepped up to the counter and bought the coffee, sans any bonuses that Jenny would give me. But on the way out, my eye caught the television they had in the shop. It had been tuned to a news channel, one probably owned by my boss, Donald Love. It looked like they had some kind of breaking news. I checked my watch. 

"7:05. I got some time," I said out loud. 

So I took a seat in front of the TV to see the latest happenings across Liberty. 

"...Thanks Jim," the female newscaster finished, "And now to our top story. The underground crime world is in shock today as high-profile mafia don, Salvatore Leone was gunned down late last night in front of a gentlemen's club that he frequented. Salvatore was the head of the Leone crime syndicate, the most powerful family in all of Liberty. He was previously being investigated by the FBI into several accounts of fraud, extortion, and copyright violations. No word yet on who is responsible for the attack, it is assumed that Salvatore left his entire estate, valued at over $250 million dollars to his son, Joseph. And now in sports news, the Liberty City Cocks defeated the Carcer City Beavers by a score of 9 to 6..." 

I think I was the only one watching the television because the rest of the coffee shop seemed to go about it's business. But to me, this was huge. The Leone crime family had run this city for years. And when I mean run, I'm talking everything. Prostitution, drug trafficking, extortion like you wouldn't believe. In fact, I was convinced that they were behind the success of Donald Love. How else could someone run a media conglomerate such as his? It'd be impossible for one man to amass. Anyway, I decided to return to reality and head off to work. It was going to be a long walk over the Callahan Bridge into Staunton Island, but it was better than sitting in a good hour of traffic. Who knows? Maybe I'd catch the bus back home after work. 

Stepping out of the coffee shop door I felt the rain. Just great, another addition to an otherwise perfect day. But I should have known by know that in Liberty City, everything's far from perfect. I really had no idea what I was about to get into. 

"Hey! Watch where the fuck you're going,"some guy had yelled over on my right. 

I glanced over to see someone in a dark suit just sprinting thru the crowded sidewalk. Now it was then and there that any other perfectly sane person would have moved out of the way. But not me. I just stood there, and zoned out. I imagined myself banging that girl in my dream again, when he ran smack dab into me and the both of us went down. 

It was at this point that I could barely make out the sounds of screeching tires headed right for me. The crowd quickly dispersed as myself and this guy on top of me stood up. He took a quick look at me, shoved me back to the ground, and then looked up and down the now empty sidewalk. From my street-level view, I saw the limo speed down the block and cross the lane of traffic, coming to a skidding halt parallel with the sidewalk. I looked over at the guy, who was now up against the marble wall as if he were trying to climb it. When I glanced over at him, I could see another man, apparently a bystander who had nothing better to do with his time than to witness this domestic disturbance. 

The limo window rolled down, and I heard a voice from within, "You're done Forelli! You fuckin' hear me? You are done!" 

I couldn't stand up. Something inside wouldn't let me stand up. I just felt trapped and helpless. I looked up at this guy, and the fear in his eyes was greater than words could express. I just sat and I watched. The limo opened fire on him, and I could hear the rounds piercing his chest, cracking his ribs and puncturing his lungs. The man slunk down the wall in a heap, and wheezed, trying to grasp every last breath of air that he could, merely prolonging the inevitable. The blood merely trickled from his chest. It wasn't like in the movies where the blood was everywhere, but the sound. The sound of his crippled mass trying to breathe...that's what scared me the most. As he convulsed one last time, and his body dropped to my right, I heard the ominous voice from the limo again. This time directed at the other guy who decided to watch this all happen, and who hadn't moved and inch since this began. 

"Hey you! Get the fuck in the limo!" 

The man just stood there. As if frozen in time. I peered into the window trying to decipher who the commands were coming from. I didn't even look at this schmuck who was just standing there. 

"I'm telling you one last time, get in the fucking limo, stunad; or you'll regret it." 

I could tell he wasn't budging. I bet the fear paralyzed him. Whoever was in that limo meant business, and I think he'd had enough. 

"It's your funeral you dumb piece of shit." 

I still was looking right at that window when I saw the muzzle flash. In fact, I saw three of them. The shell casings hit the ground like diamonds on a sheet of ice. And all I could hear was the sound of something like a melon being jabbed with a pole and then broken open. The warm sensation that ran down the side of my face was unmistakable. 

It was then that the voice directed his attention at me. 

"You! Get in the fucking limo or I'll send you to wherever those two are goin!" 

And then, fear let go. I sprung to my feet and reached for the limo door, leaving my already spilt coffee on the sidewalk. The door opened before I could reach for it, and two sets of hands ripped me into the vehicle. And all I could think was, "Welcome to Liberty: Where you're always in the wrong place at the wrong time."   
  


* * * 


	2. An Impromptu Meeting

"What the fuck is your name?" 

The limo was dark inside, and I was still adjusting my eyes. So I really didn't know where the voice was coming from or how many people were in the vehicle, but it was definitely the same guy who did the talking back there on the sidewalk. 

I could feel the limo pulling away now. If you had asked me where I thought it was going, I couldn't even give you an inkling. All I was thinking about now was being late for work. That, and trying to wipe all this blood off of my face. I thought for a minute about ruining the leather seats, so instead I used my tie to soak it all up. 

"Hey, shithead. I asked you your name," he said to me again. 

I finally got used to the little light that was inside the cabin. There were three men inside, not including myself. One sitting next to me, and two across from me. The one guy was kinda heavyset, slightly balding and was wearing a dark purple suit. Next to me was a really skinny guy. He was talking to the third guy in a really high, somewhat annoying voice. The last guy, the one who I assumed had been doing the talking all this time, was a young man, probably mid-20s. A little thick, probably all muscle though, I couldn't tell with the dark suit he was wearing. He looked right at me. 

"Don't screw with me, asshole. I'm gonna ask you once more and you better answer me. What the hell is your name?" 

I replied in as calm a voice as possible, "My name is, uh....Daniel. Dan Reibel." It was the first thing that came to mind. 

He looked over to the guy sitting next to me, "Luigi, get the fucker's wallet." 

Luigi reached into my back pants pocket, grabbed my Dockers wallet and threw it across the cabin. 

"Here ya go, Joey," he said. 

"See," Joey said. "I'm not fucking stupid." 

He opened my wallet and took my ID. 

"Let's see here. Hmmm....Scott May, age 32. Blue eyes, brown hair. 5 foot 10 inches. Lives at Apartment 23B, 14 West Brix Avenue, Portland. That's in Hepburn Heights, ain't it?" 

I nodded my head. 

"Well Scott, I hope you don't have any prior engagements today, cause we need to talk to you." 

Any day off from work is a good day for me, but that's not quite what I wanted to hear. He put my wallet in his jacket pocket. 

"I'll keep this for now," Joey said. 

It was at this point, with my eyes fully adjusted to the light that I got a good look at this guy. He had a broad forehead, kinda ruddy face, thick lips...He looked vaguely familiar. Wait...the TV report. He looked like Sal Leone, only younger...but before it really hit me, 

"I'm sorry, I haven't introduced you to everyone. Scott, I'm Joey Leone," he reached his hand out to me. I shook it, although reluctantly. 

He continued, "These are my associates, Tony Cipriani and Luigi." 

I reached my hand out to Tony, but he wasn't too receptive. So then I turned my attention to Luigi. He grabbed my hand and gave me a firm handshake. 

"I'm Luigi. Nuthin' else. Just Luigi, capisci?" 

"I understand," I told him. 

I could see Tony whispering something in Joey's ear. I had a feeling whatever he was telling Joey, wasn't too good for me. The limo took a sharp right turn, and was still doing a fair amount of speed. Whatever this was, I got caught up in something big here. 

"Now Scott, I'm going to be frank with you. If you cooperate like we ask, you ain't gonna get hurt. Okay? But if you fuck around with us, then bad shit's gonna happen. You saw what we did back there on the sidewalk. So tread lightly, my friend. You help us, and we help you, capisci?" 

"Yes" 

"Good. Let's cut to the chase. Back there on the sidewalk. What did you see happen?" 

I kinda knew what he was getting at. You know, the whole 'I didn't see nuthin' kinda thing. But I thought I should ride this out. Maybe.... 

"What do you mean?" I asked him. 

"You know what I mean. Back when you were laying down on the sidewalk. What did you see happen around you?" I could see he was getting frustrated. I took a quick look over at Tony. He opened up his jacket slightly and I could see the Beretta staring at me from underneath. 

Joey looked at me again, "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU WITNESS?" 

I witnessed a brutal double murder, something that appeared to be cold, calculated, and mob-oriented. But I wasn't stupid this time. These guys really weren't playing games. 

"I saw nothing. I fell down, spilled my coffee, and continued onto work." 

I could see that Joey was pleased. Tony released the hold on his jacket and the Beretta disappeared. I could also hear Luigi chuckling next to me. 

"Good answer, Scott," Joey said to me. "But..." and I could see him thinking now. "How did your tie get all bloodstained?" 

I had to be quick on my feet. "I fell coming out of the shop, and used my tie to clean the cut on my arm." 

"Not bad," Joey said while he gave me a look of approval. But then, I caught a quick nod. Luigi quickly reached over and rolled up my sleeve. 

"But I don't see a cut there, Scott" 

"What?" But I didn't see it coming quickly enough. 

Luigi pulled a small switchblade out of nowhere and slashed my arm, sending more blood all over my pants. The pain shot up my arm, as he caught me by surprise. Shit, that fucking hurt. I just wanted to reach over and beat the snot out of this greaseball, but I knew better. I clenched my teeth tight in order to hold back the pain. 

Joey was pleased, "That's better. Now Scott. We've had a nice little conversation, and we've established a few ground rules. You've been quite cooperative, but I think we'll hold onto this," he flashed my wallet, "just incase. I think you better be off to work now." 

Joey reached over and popped the door open. No sooner than that happened did Luigi push me from behind. 

The wind rushed up into my face and I caught a quick, blurry glimpse of the city before I plowed into the sidewalk, face first. As I rolled for about ten feet I could feel the teeth hanging on by their roots. A quick scan with my tongue revealed I lost two of the front ones. Must've swallowed them. When I came to a stop, I convulsed and a small spurt of blood wound up on the sidewalk. I could see a few people walk by, but this is Liberty. The Good Samaritan rule doesn't apply here. I made my way slowly to my feet. Taking a look around, I knew I was in Staunton. The sidewalk was now flooded with girls returning from the ZIP, old ladies doing their shopping, and yuppies trying to get to work. The traffic instantly became dense, the frequency of Mibatsu Monstrosities was sickening. 

By the looks of things, I was about three blocks away from work, the Love Media building. But how was I going to explain a slashed arm, two missing teeth (plus a few loose ones) and a suit (my only good suit too!) That was stained in the blood of two different people? 

"Fuck this," I said out loud. I'm going to the hospital. I'd rather try my excuses on them. 

I stuck my hand out as the nearest cab made its way thru the traffic and pulled up next to me. This was going to be a long day.   
  



End file.
